


First Time

by ztkuko



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, Origins retelling, POV First Person, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6216145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ztkuko/pseuds/ztkuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are first times for everything. And last times.</p><p>The Female Warden recounts how she met the man she loves, all the lovely little awkward firsts, first touch, first kiss, first love, and the final moments leading up to her Calling.</p><p>(In which the Dark Ritual is rejected)</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Time

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me while I was working on a different Dragon Age story and refused to leave me be until I wrote it all out. I had been watching a lot of Youtube videos of Alistair and all the different choices available for the end. So it goes without saying that this story contains spoilers for the game.

The first time we met, he was not what I was expecting.

Duncan had sent me into the camp to find a man named Alistair and I was fully expecting to find someone closer to Duncan’s age. I wasn’t expecting a man so youthful (and surprisingly handsome). He had a warm, friendly smile. And that voice, Maker help me, I think I may have swooned a little. He was charming enough, but I tried my best to remain focused on the mission ahead.

Nothing could have prepared me for the Joining Ritual. I watched two men die in front of me. When it was my turn to drink from the chalice, I locked eyes with Alistair and I saw his concern. I figured if I was meant to die, I wanted the last thing I see to be something nice.

Luckily, I survived the Ritual and became a full-fledged Grey Warden. The relief in Alistair’s eyes was noticeable.

*

The first time we flirted, my heart did a silly little dance.

He said something about refusing to follow the King’s order if it involved a dress and a dance. I joked that I would like to see that, and the look he gave me, a challenging smirk accompanied by the low purr of his voice as he said the words, “For you, it would have to be a pretty dress…” It made me shiver.

We didn’t flirt again until about a week after the massacre at Ostagar.

*

He touched my hand for the first time during a fight with some bandits.

I had been knocked down and he reached down to help me up. His hand was warm through his gloves, grasping mine and hauling me to my feet. I predictably stumbled as I tried to get my footing and he grabbed me around the waist to steady me. Had it not been for the bandits still attacking, I would have savoured the moment a little longer.

Once the battle was over, I noticed he had a gash on his forehead that needed attention. I pulled him down to my level, saying, “Hold still.” His eyes went wide and his face turned red as I reached for his face, and then I’m assuming I disappointed him greatly when I merely wiped away the blood and applied a bandage from my pack. He averted his eyes and mumbled his thanks, making a hasty escape.

I caught him staring at me several times afterwards that day.

*

The first gift he ever gave me was a rose.

It was a little wilted, but considering how long ago he had picked it, it looked as though he had taken great care to preserve it as well as he had. He presented it to me along with a lovely analogy about how “rare and wonderful” both the rose and I were. It was one of the most touching gifts I had ever received.

He, of course, had to cut the tension with a joke about “moving on to the steamy bits”, perhaps as a way to gauge my reaction. “It doesn’t have to be a bluff,” I told him, and smirked devilishly when he blushed all the way to his ears. But he seemed to consider it, remarking how close the tents were. My heart hammered heavily in my chest as I felt heat rushing between my legs.

I almost groaned aloud in frustration when he retreated a safe distance away to ‘cool off’.

*

The first time we kissed, it was like magic, like someone had literally cast a disorienting spell on me.

I didn’t realize just how badly I wanted him to kiss me until his lips were pressed against mine. He was timid at first, unsure of himself, I could feel it, so I wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled him closer. His hesitation disappeared as he deepened the kiss, moving his mouth, nipping gently as he pulled away. It was barely over and I already wanted to kiss him again. There was something absolutely wonderful about knowing he cared a great deal about me. It had been obvious for a while he did, but when he had finally come right out and said it, I was beyond happy.

After that, I was always looking for excuses to get him alone so I could kiss him.

*

The first time we made love was awkward, but from what I understand, the first time is always awkward no matter who you are.

I guess it didn’t help that we were both virgins and only had a vague idea of what we were doing.

There was a lot of fumbling and collisions of hands and apologetic words (mostly from Alistair). At first, we couldn’t decide if we wanted light or not inside the tent (my concern being that our forms might cast humiliating shadows for our other companions to see). We opted for no light. Undressing was a trying exercise in maintaining balance (I fell over twice trying to get my trousers off).

I did enjoy the soft gasps he made each time I revealed a new body part to him, especially when he placed his massive hands on my petite breasts (and the quiet “Oh Maker” he uttered when he squeezed). And I admit, I may have made some interesting noises myself when I saw his nude body for the first time.

When it came time for him to actually penetrate me, though, that was when our naivety to such matters really showed. He had been rutting against me, kissing me breathless, but when he tried to push the tip of his manhood in, he encountered more than a bit of resistance. I guess we both thought it would just sort of just… slide in without any issue. I was certainly aroused enough. He murmured something about how he overheard the other Templars’ talk of ‘preparing a woman’s body for her first time’, though he wasn’t sure what that actually meant. I made a joke about how enormous he was, which I’m sure pleased his ego quite a bit. Still, we kept trying until he finally managed to push through. It stung a little, stretching some tight ring of muscle inside, but once his length was coated in my juices, he moved a little more freely and the pain disappeared.

I relished the feeling of being connected to him physically as well as emotionally, and it was quite a strange and pleasurable experience being filled with so much… _him_ that made me moan and rake my nails down his back (which created some amusing red marks the next day). I never did reach my peak exactly, but I was still satisfied at the end of the night. He held me close, whispering words of love that squeezed my heart in a delightful way.

It was the first time I had ever slept next to another person who wasn’t family.

I was stiff and anxious at first, unsure of how much space I should take and whether or not my head on his chest would cause him discomfort. My arm went numb at one point while I was lying on my side and I was too shy to reposition myself, afraid I might wake him. At another point, his chin was digging into the top of my head in an annoying way and I was too polite to push him off. It took over an hour to find a comfortable position that we both seemed to like enough for us to fall asleep.

The next morning was decidedly better, though still awkward in some ways. It was the first time I learned about how men would occasionally wake with ‘morning wood’. He was pressed against my back when I felt it. At first, I wasn’t sure if he was awake or not. When I tried to slowly roll out of the way, I heard him groan in his sleep. Then he started _thrusting_ just the tiniest bit. I’m sure I turned ten different shades of red in that moment.

He woke up a minute later and I heard him mutter to himself in a panicked way, “Oh Maker, no, not now…” He tried to move his hips away discreetly, assuming I was still asleep, but I put an end to that and rolled over to pull him into a kiss.

That morning, I learned that morning sex apparently leaves me glowing for the rest of the day.

It was also the first time I encouraged Alistair to touch me between my legs. I knew from experimenting by myself that there was a spot down there that was extra sensitive, and when he pressed his fingers against it, I melted. He was a quick study and had me gasping for breath before long, bringing me to orgasm quickly.

I don’t think I had ever seen him look prouder than the moment I moaned so loud that Morrigan shouted from across the camp, “We can _hear_ you, you know!”

*

One of the most difficult times in my life was when I had to leave him at the gates of Orzammar so I could seek out the Paragon Branka.

It was the first time Alistair and I had ever argued.

I explained that if something happened to me in the Deep Roads, he would be the last Grey Warden, and it would fall on him to face the Archdemon. It wasn’t easy. Alistair put up quite a fight and I had to get both Sten and Shale to hold him down when I left.

I spent two weeks in the Deep Roads. Two weeks without sunlight. Two weeks without fresh food or cool air. Two weeks without the comforting arms of my love. It was unbearable. My nights were plagued with nightmares. My days seemed to drag out endlessly as we searched and searched. We saw many horrors down there. There were moments when I was sure I wouldn’t survive. And then there were moments when I didn’t want to.

The day we emerged from the Deep Roads, instead of reporting to the future king of Orzammar right away, I headed straight out the city gates and collapsed outside on the grass, flat on my back, staring into the blue sky, breathing in the air and letting the wind tousle my hair.

And then he was there beside me, crushing me in the most loving embrace, weeping tears of joy, vowing to never let me out of his sight again. I remember holding him so tightly, tears of my own streaming down my face, praying to the Maker that he would stay true to his word.

It was the first time I was certain I was in love and I couldn’t possibly fall for another.

*

The night before the battle of Denerim, I made one of the hardest decisions in my life.

I had just found out that whichever Grey Warden delivered the final blow to the Archdemon would be sacrificing their life. Riordan said he would do it, but I was still uneasy. Anything could happen. He was just one man facing a fierce dragon-like beast. If he failed, it would be left to us. And knowing Alistair the way I did, I knew he would take on that responsibility, regardless of what I had to say on the matter. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

However, when Morrigan offered a solution that would allow us to both live, I rejected it.

I naturally was repulsed by the manner of her solution. It involved some form of blood magic, which I knew Alistair abhorred. But what was probably worse was that it involved her being _intimate_ with him, which he probably would abhor even more. I couldn’t ask that of him under any circumstances.

So I made a choice. I stayed with him all night, unable to sleep, fearing what tomorrow would bring, wondering if I made the right choice.

*

I tried to leave him at the gates of Denerim as I did in Orzammar, but he wouldn’t have it. He had vowed to never let me out of his sight and he was upholding that vow fiercely, despite my objections.

When we watched Riordan fall to his death, my heart stopped. It sealed our fate. One of us was going to die, and I’d be damned if I let him.

We raced to the top of Fort Drakon, fighting our way through legions of darkspawn to reach the Archdemon. We battled the creature for over an hour, hammering it with ballista bolts and flaming arrows, with sword and shield and magic, until at last, it toppled to the ground, heaving its last breath.

I moved to take the final blow, but he grabbed my arm, saying, “Wait. Let me do it.” My heart leapt to my throat, choking me, making my eyes burn and my head spin. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I argued with him, pleaded, shouted and cried, beating my fists against his plate armor desperately. But he was resolute. He wouldn’t let me die.

With tears pouring down both our faces, he pulled me into a hug, hushing me, whispering that he loved me. And then he laid one last kiss to my lips before charging at the fallen Archdemon before I could stop him, plunging his blade into the beast’s skull. A bright light enveloped the battlefield, forcing me to cover my eyes with my arms. It was followed by a massive explosion, the shockwave strong enough to knock everyone off their feet.

When I recovered, I dashed to the monster’s corpse, seeking out my love. He was there, lying on his back, sword still in hand, eyes shut. I collapsed next to him, cradling his head, begging him to wake up. I had never experienced pain like this before. My heart felt like it was being crushed so tightly that I could hardly breathe. My eyesight was blinded by tears as I rocked back and forth, holding Alistair close.

It was the first and only time I’ve ever lost someone I was in love with. I swore I would never love another.

*

I’m exhausted now, my weary feet taking me forward without much thought. The old ruins of the Deep Roads are illuminated with the light from my torch. I can hear growls and rumbling somewhere in the distance. And the singing in my head - ancient songs, songs of the darkspawn, of the Old Gods - beckons me.

The Calling. It guides me, pulling me along against my will.

I’m confronted by a swarm of darkspawn soldiers. They lunge at me with their blades drawn. I hack and slash my way through the crowd, barely aware of what I’m doing. My only instinct is to kill as many as these creatures as possible before the end. Before the Taint takes me.

Just when I think I’m putting up quite a fight, I stagger when I feel an arrow pierce through my armor into my shoulder. I ignore the pain and stab the one responsible. Three more Genlocks fall to my blade. Another arrow strikes me in the leg and I fall. I manage to get to my knees in time to slice off the legs of the nearest darkspawn.

I gasp when a Hurlock Alpha plunges his sword into my back. My whole body goes numb. My vision dims. The noises and grunts around me seem to fade as the ground rushes up to meet me.

And then, nothing.

It’s quiet for a while. I feel weightless. Whatever pain I was feeling moments ago has vanished. I don’t know where I am or… what I was doing before I arrived here. I feel… at peace.

“We haven’t met, have we?”

I turn to the source of the voice.

It’s him.

“A…Alistair?” I feel as though I want to cry, but I can’t.

He’s standing there amidst a strange fog, arms folded, dressed in the armor I last saw him in, grinning that foolish grin that I loved so well.

“You remind me of the woman I love,” he says as he approaches me to embrace me. I choke back a sob against his chest.

“Are you really him?” I ask him.

“Of course I am.” His voice is tinted with laughter as he rubs my arms. He’s really here. “This is the Fade. It’s where everyone goes when they pass through the Veil. And I’ve been waiting so long for you, my love.”

For the first time in 30 years, I’m happy.

*


End file.
